


After Hours

by Padfoots_Pawprint



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, Laith, Late at Night, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-season 7, Requited Love, Sharing a Bed, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padfoots_Pawprint/pseuds/Padfoots_Pawprint
Summary: Laying in bed, Lance can admit that most of his more...intimate moments with Keith occur after hours in his small, Garrison room.





	After Hours

In Lance's not-so-humble opinion, he's a great cuddler. Fantastic really. Hunk is number one, but Lance is a close second. Perhaps not in a huge military base that currently holds his mother, but of his own small Voltron family, Lance knows that he's a great cuddler when compared to the other eight people he's been road tripping with through space recently.

A sleepy whine fills the room, and Lance corrects himself. Eight people and a space wolf. Not that Kosmo isn't high on the cuddling scale (because that wolf is, like, the fluffiest, warmest dog he's ever come across in his life), but Lance is above him for sure. Lance gives good cuddles and is good to cuddle with. And so, he feels ridiculous secure in his title of second best cuddler because, while Kosmo is sleeping on the floor, Keith is pressed to Lance's back with warm hands fisted under Lance's sleep shirt, his forehead resting at the base of Lance's neck.

Maybe Kosmo knows that Lance craves Keith's attention more than almost anything else these days, or maybe the space wolf is content with the ample space he's got on the floor, but he's graciously given Lance and Keith some uninterrupted time to cuddle together tonight instead of trying to worm his way between them like he usually does.

To be fair, Lance’s measures for good cuddling are a little skewed, since he mostly bases them on _who_ wants to cuddle with him. And the fact that Keith has been the one sneaking into Lance's room to share a bed with him is enough of a boost to Lance's self-esteem. Keith's worried, endlessly worried, about the team, about Sendak, about the fate of the world. He’s trying to do a million things every minute of every day. It's a heavy burden to bear, but it's something that Keith wants desperately to leave behind when he comes to see Lance all bleary eyed and tired of being a leader. Keith just wants a friend to talk to that isn’t his dog or his pseudo-brother, and Lance supposes that he fits the bill.

He supposes that it’s also worth noting that sleeping in Lance’s room is not Keith’s idea. Kosmo, the blessed pup that he is, has taken to teleporting Keith between their rooms of his own volition. Once, by accident, (getting out of the shower had never been so mortifying for both of them) and then the rest, completely on purpose. Keith had looked so surprised the first few times that Kosmo had done it, fumbling between excuses and apologies to try and wipe Lance’s confusion from his face. At one point they guess that perhaps Kosmo just liked that room better and decided to temporarily switch rooms, but that hadn’t made a difference to Kosmo, who merely teleported to wherever Lance was sleeping at the time.

Now, it happens like clockwork. Keith makes sure that he is dressed for Kosmo’s nightly trips to Lance’s room, so much so that Lance often has to shoo people out of his room for Keith’s inevitable arrival.

What started out as spontaneous has become routine, and Lance is honestly thankful for it. He and Keith hadn’t had the opportunity to really talk about anything, not like they used to. Ever since Keith’s return with his mother, Lance had been certain that his days as Keith’s confidant would be set firmly in the past. Kosmo’s visits began as a pleasant surprise, but Keith’s own eager acceptance of Lance’s invitations to stay after had truly boggled him at first. Mostly because he’d been hopeful about getting close to Keith again and hadn't been able to foresee a future in which they'd be able to do something like this. To be relied upon, to have his company wanted by someone who didn’t _need_ to be with him is validating.

Just staying as a result of Kosmo's infatuation with Lance isn't what Lance finds the most curious about Keith. If Keith had just wanted to hang out in the evenings, when Kosmo's insistence was too great to overcome, Lance may not have questioned it too much. Because most of the time, they find each other without even trying. They cross paths as they recover, meeting in weight rooms, at mealtimes, and during debriefings with Shiro and the rest of their team. There are only moments, numerous and varied, in which they come together again and again and again.

And when Keith starts to seek out his company -obviously, openly, actively, no Kosmo in sight- who is Lance to refuse?

The moments between them aren’t always stolen, but it’s these after hour cuddle sessions Lance likes the best. When the Garrison is at rest and the remaining Galra are (hopefully) millions of lightyears away from them, he and Keith and Kosmo can sit in bed and talk in meaningless circles. Relaxing against the wall with Kosmo tucked between them, they can discuss the intricacies of planets and their star charts, grooming tips for Kosmo and ways to prank Griffin, new dumb challenges they can partake in secret (who can hold their breath the longest, or who can get 100 push-ups first). The best challenge so far is with Kosmo, whose loyalty to Keith only wavers when Lance tries to beckon the wolf over. Unless Keith is using his most serious and urgent voice, Kosmo betrays him for Lance, who rewards him with treats from Bebe’s bag in the kitchen and plenty of pets.

They laugh and talk and share secrets. And gradually, as the night drags on, one of two things will happen. The first, obviously, is that Keith realizes he’s leaning more on Lance than on Kosmo. Trying in vain to convince Kosmo to teleport them back to his room, he lands up sleeping on the top bunk, and Lance falls asleep to his friend’s quiet breathing. The second, more recent development, is that Lance’s liberties with Keith’s space pay off. They fall asleep in a messy pile, waking up only when the space wolf exchanges the bed for the floor. With both of them too tired to do anything about it, they crawl under the covers and take refuge in the warmth of another body.

It feels nothing like what Lance has with Allura, a friendship teetering on the precipice of something more unreal than he's ever considered. Allura is a dream. Her smile, her blush, they feel like something he’s tricked himself into seeing. Because he knows that, deep down, they’re so similar, eager for someone to look at them and truly love them as they are. No pedestals, no illusions, no misguided optimism. They encourage each other to better themselves, but it’s never something that feels substantial to Lance, somehow. More wishful thinking than anything.

Wishes and dreams got thrown out the window when he became a defender of the universe. It has changed him into someone more like himself, he supposes wryly. He's more honest, more supportive, braver. It's not a wish anymore, to want more for yourself. If there's anything he's learned how to do, it's figuring out what he wants. He’s tired of being underestimated and chided and coming in second.

He wants to be someone’s first choice, and he wasn’t that for Allura.

Keith, on the other hand, is a long lost goal that he’s only _now_ brushing with his fingertips. He’s familiar, an echo of some truth that Lance has tried so hard to fight but knows that he can’t, that his feelings are inevitable. He’s been able to come to terms with that in Keith’s absence, the feelings strengthening upon Keith’s return. It’s with Keith that he feels lucky to be selected, honoured to be chosen by someone who genuinely seems to value him. Lance is amazed by a Keith that no longer walks right past him, by a Keith whose eyes follow him in crowded rooms, who speaks with honesty and tries to listen. Keith is different from their Garrison days - taller, battle-worn, tired - but the same too. He’s got the same eyes, the same passion, the same bright, cocksure ideas. Keith is old and new again as they lie intertwined on the mattress. Keith is tangible, real, attainable, and -as long as he’s not reading the signals wrong- very much _into_ Lance.

Granted, Lance has been wrong before.

As if Lance's thoughts are aloud, Keith snuggles closer into Lance’s back, their hips bumping together as Keith’s fist opens and closes lazily against the skin above Lance’s heart. As it opens again, calloused fingertips dragging along the smooth skin under Lance’s shirt, Lance half thinks his poor little heart will beat straight out of his chest and into Keith’s palm. “Stop thinking,” he grumbles, breath hot against the center of Lance’s back.

Smiling, Lance turns in Keith’s arms so they can face each other, something that Keith doesn’t appreciate. A little whine that is _definitely_ not Kosmo emanates from the body next to him. Keith’s eyes are still shut, but his eyebrows furrow cutely and Lance is once again struck with the urge to kiss him. “Why?” Keith groans as he tilts his head up just so, lips accidentally brushing the edge of Lance’s collarbone.

“Go back to sleep.”

There is very little light in the Garrison cabin they’re in right now, save for a thin orange line just under the second bunk bed like a night light amid the darkness. It slides the shadows across the blankets so they both hover between seeing and not seeing, between knowing and not knowing. Not that Lance needs light to see what Keith looks like. He feels like he’s memorized the look. Maybe because he's been spending more and more time with Keith. Maybe he's had the features memorized since he was twelve. He can't be sure. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

The amber glow illuminates the planes of Keith’s face when he shifts, from his eyebrows to the curve of his throat. His eyes are open, glittering under the light with sleepy attention. Keith’s hand slides down to nestle in the dip of Lance’s hip.

The intense urge to tell Keith what exactly is on Lance’s mind is as dangerous as it is powerful. His thoughts play through a tempting narrative, just as lovely as it is frightening. Because if, for once, Keith isn’t an enigma, if he isn’t some lofty rival, if he isn’t a leader Lance is meant to look up to, then he’s just as human as Lance. It’ll mean this chance is an opportunity he really ought to take. It means that for once in his short life, he’s actually found someone who occasionally looks at him like he wants to kill and kiss him all at once.

He’s used to just getting annoyed scowls and sly smiles. Lance is used to receiving searing glares and rage hidden behind a tight-lipped response. He’s had that look from Keith, from clone Shiro, from professors at the Garrison displeased with his outspokenness.

These days, however, he’s figuring out Keith’s new look, one that he has misinterpreted many times. Now that he’s seeing it for what it is, a frustrated fondness that Keith holds for Lance, it sends Lance’s own hope skyrocketing. Lance’s not-so-guilty pleasure is trying to render that look from Keith as many times as possible because it really is one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

It’s not the look he’s getting right now, though. Keith’s gaze is full of sleepy curiosity and an honest desire to simply _know_.

Still, Lance opens his mouth before shutting it quickly. What does he even _say_ to that? He knows what he wants to say, and he knows that he can’t. Lance shuts his eyes, willing himself to sleep. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. He has a lonely hand laying between their chests while the other takes a mirror position by Keith’s waist. It’s so nice to be close, he thinks idly, he’d hate to lose it.

“You’re not a paladin right now, Lance. You’re my friend.” Even when he’s tired, there’s a little hesitation before the word 'friend'. Fractional, really. The kind of hesitation that Lance would have jumped on had he been younger, less experienced. It's uncharacteristic in Keith, who runs on impulse more often than Lance.

Lance, on the other hand, fails to hesitate. He doesn’t think about what he wants to say, for once. Exhaustion has made him impatient. So he just _says_ it, recklessly, foolishly. “I don’t want to be.”

“ _What_?”

Lance could kick himself at his own stupidity, and his mind immediately thinks of the worst. He screwed up. It’s game over. There’s a sound at the base of the bed that he knows is Kosmo, eyes bright and curious as he peeks over the edge of the bed to find out what the commotion is about. If he doesn’t fix this right now, he really _will_ lose Keith. Keith, who has no doubt taken Lance’s impulsive words at face value. “That’s not what I meant.” Lance swallows hard, words bubbling up in his throat. He feels Kosmo leap onto the bed, padding his way over to the pair of them and nosing at the distressed look on Keith’s face worriedly.

“Wh-” begins Keith, but Lance’s eyes are on Kosmo, who has now turned sharply to advance on Lance. Kosmo is not delicate as he squishes himself between Lance and Keith, furry face bumping up against Lance’s chin as if prompting him for more. Before explaining himself to Keith, he’ll have to get through Kosmo, it seems.

“Don’t look at me like, buddy, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” Kosmo’s whines again, bumping Lance harder this time. He even growls a little to get his point across and Lance wants nothing more than to remedy the situation for all parties involved.  “More than friends, Kosmo,” Lance clarifies it with breathless urgency, “I meant to say I wanted to be _more than friends_.” Kosmo blinks at him and doesn’t seem to be buying Lance’s sincerity at all. He can hardly see Keith at all over the canine that has Lance pinned to the bed. “Please, Kosmo. We talked about this. I was going to say something when the time was right.”

This all feels like a horrible dream that Lance can't wake up from. There's a pause, a dramatic moment where Lance is quite certain that Keith is going to get up and leave the room, leave whatever _thing_ between them behind. Instead, Keith asks a question so wholly unrelated to Lance's currently predicament that it has him reeling.

“Have you been talking to my dog without me?” asks Keith’s disembodied voice from behind Kosmo.

“Sometimes? He just sort of finds me and we talk. Well, I talk to him,” corrects Lance. “I don’t really know where you are when he does.”

“Kosmo.” Kosmo’s ears twitch, but he refuses to move. He wrinkles his nose and licks at Lance’s face playfully, completely devoid of his earlier annoyance and happy to comfort Lance now that he's satisfied with the answer given. “ _Kosmo_ ,” says Keith again, more firmly this time, more of a command, and Kosmo pulls back from Lance’s wet face with a satisfied huff before turning his attention to Keith. Lance uses his hand to wipe the slobber off him, and Kosmo leaps off the bed and settles himself back down onto the floor. Lance’s embarrassment is nearly unbearable and, under Keith’s scrutiny, he feels like he wants to curl up and hide.

Which is, of course, exactly what he does.

“Lance, come on.” Keith sounds a little like he’s on the brink of laughing, his hand warm against Lance’s shoulder as he tries to open him up. Because, oh god, Lance just admitted something he was sure he'd be taking to the grave. Besides, even if he _did_ intend to eventually tell Keith about his feelings, he'd never want it like this! This isn't what he wants to say. He _wants_ to say that Keith has been someone who makes him want to be better, who has acknowledged that he’s been important in the growth of more than one paladin. He _wants_ to confess that he’s in love with Keith, that he never wants to stop being with him, that the idea that Keith loves him just as much as Lance loves Keith makes him so happy that he could die.

Keith says his name again, softer this time, and succeeds in coaxing Lance’s hands away from his face. It's there that he finds Keith smirking that familiar self-satisfied smirk he wears when he knows he’s caught Lance. One eyebrow up, mouth curved into something knowing and playful and, dare he say it, _flirty_. It’s a really good look on him, one that always sends his pulse racing. “More than friends, huh?”

A quick sigh escapes Lance, and he sinks into the pillow, deep enough to look up at Keith. His attempts to smother his hope with a million excuses comes naturally; less of a test for Keith as it is a reality check for Lance.

Because if he could have Keith, should he? It doesn’t make much sense to him, no matter how much he tries to work it out. What Lance has desired for years, battles hard for the immediate desire to forget he said _anything_ that could disrupt the tenuous balance between them. Late night cuddles in the safety of his Garrison room and secret smiles shared during physiotherapy could be enough for him. It could be enough for Keith too. They could love each other from afar, supporting one another like family amidst the war until it was over and they found new people to cherish. They could fall in love with other people, start families, work galaxies away and only see each other on birthdays or anniversaries. They could live happy lives, knowing this was all behind them.

The only problem is that Lance certainly loves Keith in not exactly a familial way, and, judging by the now hopeful expression on Keith’s face, Lance tries to destroy the thought that Keith wants anything different. Tries, because years of self-doubt are hard to undo.

“We can’t, obviously,” Lance manages an awkwardly forced chuckle and watches, near heartbroken, as Keith’s expression falls again. It hurts more knowing that he’s caused it  “My mother always told me to get into relationships where I could be on equal footing with them," he offers, convincing neither of them. “It’d be a conflict of interest.”

“There’s no conflict,” says Keith quickly, the hand on Lance’s hip burning hot as he says, “This is what I want.”

“There will be,” warns Lance, his resolve to fight against the overwhelming tide that is Keith Kogane failing every second. “What’s Shiro going to say if he finds out his little brother, that _you_ are dating your right-hand man?”

The self-satisfied smirk is back on Keith’s lips as he contemplates what must be a very desirable position to be in. “Congratulations?”

Lance slaps his shoulder, and Keith chuckles lowly. Kosmo makes a noise on the floor that sounds like either a snort or a sneeze. “This is serious, Keith.”

“I’m very seriously in love with you,” says Keith, his voice reverently soft as he nudges his forehead forward to bump affectionately with Lance’s, “and I was hoping that you liked me too.”

It only takes a fraction of a second for Lance to give in to the light of Keith’s eyes and the warmth of his skin as he crushes Keith to his chest in a hug. His exhale is shaky and on the cusp on a million different things he wants to say. _This is real_ , he thinks. “You’re always trying to one-up me. First to fly, first to say you love me." He turns his head to press a kiss to Keith's shoulder. "Why don’t I hate that?”

“It doesn’t work if you keep matching me point for point.” Lance can feel those words straight through his chest. The swell of happiness he’s been experiencing since he realized (like, _really_ realized) that their feelings are mutual still hasn’t subsided. He doesn’t expect it to, either. “I don’t want to do this without you, Lance. I don’t think I can.”

“You know just what to say, don’t you?” He doesn’t try to hide the sourness of his voice. He knows Keith’s already seen through it anyway. “Think just ‘cause I’m in love with you, I’ll swoon and do whatever you want.”

“You won’t?” Keith laughs, squeezing Lance’s shoulders just so, and Lance has to silently calm himself as he feels Keith’s mouth at the edge of  Lance’s neck. His own words feel like they fill the room: _I'm in love with you_. “I’m just hoping that I haven’t dreamed that the love of my life just admitted to being in love with me. I don’t think I could live with myself if we kept doing this every night without talking about how we feel.”

“I don’t know if we’d keep getting away with it.” Lance’s words are half lost in Keith’s hair, a giddy sort of glee coming over him. “I almost told Hunk about it just the other day, you know?”

“But you didn't.”

“But I didn't.”

Keith pulls away to just _look_ at Lance, admiring him from across the already small Garrison bed. Their legs are still tangled together, they both have bed head, and he is still quite certain that Keith is everything Lance wants life.

He’s young enough to be that optimistic, he supposes. Because really, of all the people he could read wrong, he read Keith _right_ at the _right_ time. Not everyone is so lucky.

He assumes that that’s what Keith’s expression looks like too. He looks at Lance like he’s lucky, like he can hardly believe that this is happening to them, incredulous and overjoyed all at once. Keith’s eyes rove Lance’s face, eager to catalogue what he looks like, to memorize how this moment feels, because he wants to.

Because he _loves_ him.

“I thought you’d never shoot your shot.”

Lance tries (and fails) not to laugh at that. Leave it to Keith to be mildly annoyed with Lance's hesitance. “You don't shoot unless you know you’ll hit the target,” says Lance sagely.

“And you weren’t sure about me?” Keith practically scoffs. “I thought I was obvious.”

“I thought I might have had it wrong,” admits Lance before puffing himself up a little, “even though that’s ridiculous. I’m such a catch.”

"You are," agrees Keith with an enthusiasm that seems to surprise even him, as if he didn't expect himself to respond so readily to it. Surprising, but in the same way unexpected honesty can be pleasantly surprising. An honest rush that should be a mistake but one you'd been wanting to make for a long time.

Lance's hand drifts upwards, fingers drawing a soft line from Keith's temples, along the shell of his ear reminding himself that reality really has been nothing but a touch away. That his fears, though justified, were blessedly for naught. That this was more than what he wants.

That this piece of happiness is really what they deserve.

"We should sleep," he says with a smile, watching as Keith hums, thumbing the skin he can touch and making Lance shiver. Lance isn't tired, not in the slightest, not anymore, but someone has to be responsible. "We have a big day tomorrow. Might actually get to fly Red again if Shiro thinks we're well enough to pilot."

"Yeah."

The laughter that slips out of Lance's mouth is considerably more intentional than the expression of reluctance that crosses Keith's face. "What?" asks Lance, one hand combing through Keith's hair. "Not tired?"

The answer he receives is far more serious than the one he expects. "What if I sleep now, and this really _was_ a dream?" He asks quietly. Keith's removes his touch only briefly cradle Lance's face, a touch that Lance helplessly leans into. “What if you don’t-“

"I'm not worried." Lance prides himself in how steady his voice sounds, despite the innate urge to kiss and coo at Keith’s insecurity, an insecurity that Lance has been echoing for days, weeks,  years, really. It’s insecurity built on a foundation of shaky relationships with people who left long ago both of their own volition and the power of another. Lance wants to soothe it all away until nothing is left but their own bubble of happiness, of requited love, of satiated longing.

"No?"

"Keith," says Lance, turning his face inwards to greet Keith's palm with a kiss, "you're as real as it gets for me. You're what I want, too." Keith makes a noise in the back of his throat, like maybe he wants to say more, before Lance pushes forward, out of Keith's palm and pressing his lips to Keith's mouth. "I love you," he murmurs. "I do. And I'm going to love you when we wake up too. And the day after that. And the day after that. Probably forever, actually."

Keith sighs and Lance thinks that maybe he's managed to placate him, but instead, Keith looks at him, falsely doe-eyed and innocent. He voice is as playful as ever, filled with happiness and sly with desire. “I’ll need an incentive," Keith says, edging closer in a near-comical attempt at subtlety. It almost makes Lance laugh out loud. “To sleep?"

He doesn’t have to think twice this time, not when he’s picking up Keith’s signs loud and clear. Lance obliges, taking the hand in Keith's hair to tilt his head up and leans in. “That,” says Lance, kissing along Keith’s jaw and relishing in the noise of contentment his partner gives him, “is something I think I can provide.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's been so long since I've written for these boys. I feel there's been so much happening in my life that I haven't been able to really sit down and properly look at this piece. It feels good to have it done. Big thanks to Sam for looking at this fic and being my hype girl <3 Your expertise helped me finish this fic. I don't call you a goddess for nothing ;)


End file.
